


Tawny

by Anteros



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:50:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/Anteros





	Tawny

**I**

The first thing he became aware of was the pounding in his head. His throat was parched and his mouth filled with ashes. Hornblower lay still, waiting for his senses to reorder themselves into a semblance of consciousness. He carefully opened one eye and was rewarded with a searing stab of pain as a shaft of sunlight fell across his face from the large window opposite. Ignoring the pain in his head he levered himself up onto one elbow. The first thing he saw was Archie, asleep in the bed beside him, a stray wisp of tawny hair lying across his cheek flickered with each long even breath. The second thing he saw was a bundle of clothes on the floor beside the bed; his breeches, beside them lay one shoe, in the centre of the room lay the other, a second heap of clothing by the blue and white tiled hearth must be his shirt and by the door, in a crumpled heap, lay his lieutenant's jacket. It had to be his jacket, Archie’s jacket, still with its white collar patches, was hanging neatly on a hook by the door. Dammit how had he managed that?

Hornblower gingerly lay down again, careful not to disturb his shipmate, and concentrated on recalling the events of the night before.

* * *

  
**II**

The _Indefatigable_ had put in to Lisbon to replenish their stores and replace a foretopmast sprung and damaged during some boisterous weather encountered in the Bay of Biscay. Mr Beale, the frigate’s carpenter, had advised Captain Pellew that a suitable replacement could not be secured until the following day so the ship had anchored in the large port of the Tagus estuary. They had barely let go the anchor when Lieutenant Hornblower and Acting Lieutenant Kennedy were summoned to the captain and ordered to attend to some personal business he wished to conduct in the neighborhood of the city. The officers were charged with going ashore and procuring a carriage and an interpreter to take them to a particular estate beyond the northern edge of the city to purchase for the captain's personal cabin stores several cases of the fine fortified wine for which the area was renowned. The particular estate favoured by Captain Pellew, being some distance from the port, the trip would necessitate the officers lodging there for the night, before returning to rejoin the ship by high tide the following day.

On receiving their orders Hornblower had been a picture of affronted indignation that two officers should be sent on such a petty errand. And although it would be heresy to question the judgment of the renowned Captain Sir Edward Pellew he was astonished by this uncharacteristic display of frivolity. Hornblower had been on the point of begging the captain's pardon but wouldn’t it be more appropriate to send his steward, rather than two officers who could be more gainfully employed drilling their divisions or attending to any of the numerous task that were the duty of a conscientious officer of His Majesty's Navy. However he had got no further than clearing his throat when Kennedy had replied with a crisp "Aye aye sir" and the captain had dismissed them on the spot. Hornblower had then been propelled from the great cabin by the acting lieutenant with sufficient speed and force to miss what looked decidedly like a smirk on the face of their commanding officer. Although he couldn't help but notice what was most definitely a smirk on the face of his shipmate.

* * *

  
**III**

Hornblower had still been feeling decidedly irritable and misused as the carriage had rattled up the narrow cobbled lanes leading away from the port, and his companion’s high spirits did little to ease his temper. However as the twisting streets of the port gave way to wide avenues and boulevards and then to fields, vinyards and olive groves dotted with fine villas even a man as determinedly morose as Hornblower could not prevent his spirits from soaring.

On arriving at the estate they sought their interpreter assured them that their business would be transacted swiftly and that they could return to their ship that very night, should they prefer. Hornblower had been all for agreeing that this would be the appropriate course of action when Kennedy had silenced him with the kind of glance that he knew better than to question.

While the translator discussed their purchase with the estate manager, they had been ushered to a shady verandah behind the fine old villa and refreshments were brought in the form of strong black coffee and soft sweet cakes, both of which helped to improve Hornblower's mood still further.

The trouble had started, as trouble often did, when Archie had made a particularly flippant comment to which Horatio had responded with a sharp “Mister Kennedy!” The effect was instantaneous. All conversation stopped and both estate manager and agent hurried away into the main house to return moments later with the rather flustered looking owner of the estate. The owner, who introduced himself as Luis Almeida da Silva, had seized Archie’s hand and started gabbling at him in Portuguese. Archie, for all his surprise, had retained his gracious demeanor, while smiling and nodding politely at the outpouring of enthusiasm. When the torrent had finally ceased and the gentleman had placed one hand on his breast and bowed low before them the translator had explained that the family was _most_ honoured to entertain any son of the great Captain Archibald Kennedy, the hero of Tagus, who had done so much to protect their merchant vessels and business interests in the face of attacks from their duplicitous Spanish neighbours. Archie’s insistence that he was only laterally related to the illustrious Captain Kennedy, Earl of Cassillis, through his mother's second cousin twice removed, did little to assuage the owner's honorific ebullience.

As a result of Archie's tenuous connections to the Earl, they had been invited to dine with the family as guests of honour and over the course of a fine meal had been obliged to sample the estate's finest vintages. Archie had been in his element, entertaining the dinner party uproariously in a combination of English, Spanish, Galician and a few words of Portuguese he had picked up from god knows where. The port most likely, judging by the scandalised and delighted expressions of the ladies of the household. By the second course the pretty daughter had been blushing furiously and, giving up any pretence of modesty, was gazing at Archie in wide eyed astonishment and adoration.

Although he had enjoyed watching Archie holding court, Horatio had felt as awkward as he invariably did at social gatherings and had concentrated his attention on the glorious wine. One was pale and dry as straw, another dark and rich and jammy and a third a deep tawny gold bursting with the taste of caramel and raisins. True to his Scottish roots Archie had held his own against the forces of inebriation while dispatching every drop placed before him. Horatio, on the other hand, with his considerably less robust constitution, had been three sheets to the wind by the time they were ushered out to a small but comfortable house behind the villa overlooking low vineyard covered hills that rolled into the distance.

A maid with a lantern had led them down a path between olive trees hung with sweet smelling creepers. Archie, steady on his feet as always, walked ahead, his jacket slung over his shoulder. Horatio weaved several paces behind mesmerised by Archie's easy stride, his sailors gait lending the slightest swagger and roll to his hips. The light from the maid's lamp caught in his hair making it shine the same rich amber as the wine that had turned his head earlier in the evening. So fixated had he been on the figure in front of him that he caught his foot in a loose cobble, stumbling and staggering. Archie had turned quickly and caught his arm, smiling a smile that dimmed the moon. "All right there, Horatio?" Horatio remembered grinning at his shipmate foolishly and as he lay there in the bed beside him he could feel the same grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. He stretched cautiously so as not to waken Archie, lay back and closed his eyes.

* * *

  
**IV**

Whether the short walk to their lodging had cleared his head or inflamed him further Horatio could not recall, but he did remember that no sooner had the maid lit the lamps, turned back the sheets and bid them goodnight, he had Archie pinned against the door, planting hot fierce kisses along his jaw and down his neck. The next thing he remembered he had been on his knees in front of Archie one hand pulling at the placket of his breeches the other hand pressing his hips hard against the door. And then that fluttering in his stomach and that unbearable heat spreading up from his lap and Archie's fingers had been in his hair, and that warm musky smell that was Archie, that made his head swim and made him loose what little sense remained. And Archie's voice pleading with him.

"Horatio, wait. Please, wait..."

But he couldn't wait.

"Horatio, please Horatio..."

He wanted him right there.

"Please, please..."

And then the warm salt rush of release in his mouth and those fingers twisting through his hair hard enough to hurt and the hips beneath his hands jerking and sliding down the door.

Eyes still closed, Horatio's hand strayed beneath the sheet and he lazily curled his fingers around himself.

Somehow they had made it from the door to the bed, shedding and scattering clothes on the way. Horatio didn't remember getting into bed but he did remember the feel of Archie's warm hard body beneath his own and the intake of breath and low sharp cry as Horatio had pressed inside him. Horatio gripped himself harder, his breath and his stroke quickening with the memory of the tight heat that had gripped him and pulled him in and all he had wanted was further and more and the strong body beneath him had bucked and shuddered and Archie had cried his name over and over, pleading with him...

The rhythm of Horatio's stroke faltered. He stopped, opened his eyes, a sudden hollow chill creeping over him. He had been drunk, Archie much less so, had he been too rough, too eager? It had happened before. He was a damned fool. Horatio turned onto his side to face his sleeping companion, studying him to look for the tell tale signs that he had seen pinching Archie's face on too many dark and hopeless nights. But there was no sign of the drawn grey look that Horatio remembered all to well and feared to see again. Far from it, Archie was sound asleep, his cheeks flushed, eyes closed, fine pale lashes flickering, lips parted and that long strand of dark gold hair lying across his cheek, fluttering slightly with each slow even breath. Horatio watched the strand in fascination before carefully brushing it away from Archie's cheek. Archie shifted slightly and wrinkled his nose. Horatio was so captivated by this reaction that he brushed one finger across his cheek a second time. Archie wrinkled his nose again, this time turning his head to the side, thick tawny hair falling away from his shoulder, revealing a livid purple bruise between collar bone and throat. Horatio's smile died on this lips. He closed his eyes and berated himself silently. What a fool, what a thoughtless, damnable over-eager fool. That he had marked Archie was intolerable.

* * *

  
**V**

When he had first come aboard _Justinian_ it hadn't taken the observant Mr Honblower long to realise that he never saw Archie Kennedy naked, despite the fact that they slept side by side amongst a press of crowded bodies in the midshipman's berth. Even when they had shared a bed on shore leave Archie had been reluctant to remove shirt and breeches. Horatio still cringed at his own naivety, remembering how he had berated Archie for refusing to undress before retiring.

Horatio had never been entirely comfortable in his own skin but although he had been painfully aware of his awkward gawky body he was not ashamed of it. There were far more important things for the young Horatio Hornblower to be ashamed of, such as failing to live up to his own lofty ideals. His father had taught him that they were all made in God's image and that there was no shame in the naked human form. Horatio had known nothing of that shame until he had known Archie.

He would never forget the first time he saw Archie naked. He had learned about shame that night. Shame that he had been so naive. Shame that he had been unable to prevent those marks that criss-crossed Archie's back, circled his wrists and scored his flanks. Horatio cold not think of a single one of those marks without a furious pain and anger welling up inside him. And then when he had found the crumpled remains of this man curled in dumb stupor in El Ferrol, a new map of suffering etched on his skin obliterating the old. A record of every failed escape, of every insubordination, every one a trace of determination and despair. And Horatio had known then, as he knew now, that if he brushed the hair back from Archie's brow there, just below his hair line, would be a two inch scar, faded now but still visible. That one scar that marked where he, Horatio Hornblower, had struck down Archie Kennedy and caused him to be washed away on the tide of war. He screwed his eyes shut and swallowed hard, even now the memory of that awful night made his blood run cold.

* * *

  
**VI**

Horatio exhaled a long breath and opened his eyes again. The presence of the man sleeping beside him proved beyond all doubt that from war and despair could come the unlikeliest salvation. Horatio felt his throat tighten as he watched his sleeping companion. One hand lay open on the pillow between them, Horatio ran one finger over the raised silver scar that wound round Archie's wrist before sliding his palm into his. Archie's fingers flexed, twining round Horatio's, his mouth curving almost into a smile. It was a small victory, but one Horatio never failed to appreciate. Time was when the slightest unexpected touch made Archie flinch, awake or asleep.

Sliding his hand out of Archie's light grip Horatio ran his fingers over one strong smooth shoulder, following the straight line of his collar bone and across the broad chest with it's fine covering of dark hair. Archie stirred, lips falling open. Horatio stilled his hand for a moment, watching the rise and fall of Archie's chest. The sheet was pushed down around his waist and with his free hand Horatio pulled it down further until it slid off Archie's hip and pooled on the bed between them. Letting his hand travel over Archie's smooth belly he followed the fine line of hair that led further down to where his prick lay semi errect against his thigh. Horatio ran one finger very lightly down its length before shifting his hand to the small of Archie's back and sliding it down over his buttocks. Horatio was starting to ache now. Shifting closer he gripped Archie's arse and pulled him nearer, thighs touching, pressing together. Archie pushed against him and groaned softly, eyelids flickering, lips parted. Horatio edged his free hand down between their bellies, slipping over both of them, holding them together, measuring his stroke to Archie's quickening breath, feeling his warm length sliding over his own. Archie moaned, reaching out one hand, tangling it in Horatio's curls. They were moving together now, heat and pressure and want growing to an intensity Horatio could barely contain. Archie was breathing heavily, clinging to him and thrusting hard. Horatio knew Archie would let go any moment and he bit his own lip hard to delay his own release. Archie's hard steady rhythm was faltering and breaking, head thrown back, eyes screwed tightly shut. "Please, 'Ratio please..." Horatio held him in that eternity for a second before gripping him hard and sliding one long finger inside him. Archie's solid body slammed against him and they both came with a cry loud enough to have raised the Marines, had they been aboard ship.

* * *

  
**VII**

"Mornin H'ratio." Archie croaked once he had managed to disentangle himself sufficiently to breath. He looked up through sleepy lids, and smiled, cheeks flushed scarlet. "You're, ummm, awake.'

"So it seems Mr Kennedy. Where as you are a lazy good for nothing ...."

But Mr Kennedy was considerable more awake than Mr Hornblower had given him credit for and before he could finish he found himself pinned beneath Archie's warm heavy body being tickled mercilessly and it was only a soft rap on the door and the voice of the maid that saved him from a foe that was determined to give no quarter. Outside the door they found a tray of small white rolls, hot coffee, fresh oranges and more of the small sweet cakes they had sampled the previous day. After enjoying a leisurely breakfast they dressed, Archie making great sport of the manner in which Horatio's clothes were strewn around the room and reminding him pointedly that the Admiralty took a dim view of those that treated the Uniform with such scorn. In fact he was sure there must be an Article of War to punish those that brought the Uniform into such disrepute. As the excesses of the night before were starting to tell on Horatio again, his patience quickly wore thin and he was forced to shut Archie up by kissing him hard and smacking him even harder.

Once they were sufficiently presentable they took their leave of their gracious host and alighted the small carriage for the journey back to the port.

* * *

  
**VIII**

They were standing on the quay beside several crates of wine watching the _Indefatigable's_ cutter pulling towards them when Archie cleared his throat, interrupting Horatio's pleasant day dream.

"Umm Horatio? You might want to fasten your stock a little higher."

Archie's fingers where already fidgeting behind his collar.

Horatio raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Why so Mr Kennedy?"

"Ah well. You see, there appears to be a rather obvious mark on the back of your neck. The devil knows how it got there but we wouldn't want the captain to think you had been subject to ungallant treatment now would we?"

Archie appeared to be trying to look guilty but his expression did nothing to suggest contrition. Quite the opposite. Horatio tugged at his neck cloth, his convincing scowl spoiled somewhat by a poorly repressed smirk.

“No indeed Mr Kennedy. Perish the thought.”

* * *

  
**Notes**

1\. Mr Lionel Beale, Ship's Carpenter, HMS _Indefatigable_ , 1797.  
2\. "Captain Archibald Kennedy distinguished himself in the Seven Years War (1756 - 1763) when, as the commander of HMS _Flamborough_ , his job was to protect British trade with Portugal.... His gallantry was recognised by the grateful British community in Lisbon, which in 1760, presented him with a sliver salver engraved with a scene of his most notable action." The National Trust of Scotland, 2006, _Culzean Castle_ p 21.  
3\. Lieutenant George Vernon Jackson describing his final escape attempt which involved being hauled over the walls of Verdun at night: "Determined not to let go I clung savagely to it (the rope) and up I went until my hands came into contact with the edge of the parapet, with the result that the skin of my knuckles and the back of my hands was badly lacerated.....my hands were a frightful sight, and to this day the marks of the midnight adventure are apparent on them." Jackson, G. V., 1997, "Damn em Jackson, they've spoilt my dancing" in King, D. (ed) _Every Man Will Do His Duty_ , Conway Maritime Press, p 285.  
4\. The advice that men are made in God's image is courtesy of Uncle Philemon ;)


End file.
